


Eye of the Beholder

by MaddyBee



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Dark, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fake Character Death, Family Feels, Feels, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Minor Wade Wilson, Mutant Powers, Mutant Reader, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Steve Rogers, Reader-Insert, Thriller, Torture, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-05 23:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11588460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddyBee/pseuds/MaddyBee
Summary: You and Bucky were finally getting somewhere when your past comes back to bite you in the ass - and now you’re in some serious trouble with one of the most notorious villains on the planet. Oops.





	1. Pilot Light

The first thing you did upon waking was let out a long, mournful groan.

After visiting Dr Cho, you’d been so tired that Steve had had to practically carry you to your bed. Which meant that the pain hadn’t registered. Now, however, you couldn’t name a part of you that wasn’t aching.

You took the time to stretch your muscles, careful of your injured shoulder - being stabbed was never fun after all, and it would be a while until you had full movement back. Luckily, the blade had missed everything vital, so with rest and light physiotherapy you’d be up in the action again soon. Until then, you’d use it as an excuse to make the boys wait on you hand and foot.

With the good mood that came from a successful mission, you glanced at the clock - 10:34 - and pushed off the bed to go take a shower, slowly rolling your shoulder to loosen the tight muscles.

When you padded barefoot into the common area an hour later in your oversized jumper and cotton shorts, you were met with a half-asleep Clint attempting to maintain control of the massive fry up he was cooking. It was decided that his punishment for triggering the trap that led to you getting stabbed trying to rescue him would be to make the team breakfast - he made the best fry-ups.

Although it was steadily nearing midday, you weren’t surprised that no one else was hanging around the kitchen. After all, you didn’t get back to base until around 5 that morning.

Helping yourself to a coffee, you ruffled Clint’s hair in greeting, pulling a lazy grin and a quick squeeze from the blonde. Then, ready to lay around watching trash tv until someone brought you food, you headed over to the sofas, vaulting over the back of one - clutching your coffee carefully indeed - to snuggle up to the other occupant.

Wanda gave you a warm smile and held her blanket up for you to huddle under. Sam, who was happily spread across the other sofa, gave you a grin, but his eyes were scanning your shoulder. Both him and Wanda opened their mouths at the same time, but you beat them to it.

 

“Shoulder’s fine, Helen said I just need to take it easy for a bit.”

“I think her exact words were 'don't go trying to beat up any super soldiers like you always do because you will lose embarrassingly fast'”.

You pouted at Tony as his words brought a laugh from Sam and Wanda. The genius was leant against the table, mug in hand and a smirk on his lips. He simply threw you a wink and went to annoy Clint – one of his favourite hobbies.

“Aw, you hear that princess, no getting into scuffles now, you might hurt yourself!” Sam teased through his giggling, and you quickly glared in his direction. Before you could bite back a reply though, another voice interrupted.

“Uh oh, I know that look, you're a dead man, Pigeon.”

Bucky.

The brunette super soldier dropped heavily into the seat next to you, squashed up close with an arm thrown carefully around your shoulders and his thigh pressed up against yours. Plus, he was sweaty from his workout and smelt so damn masculine and, oh god, his hair was up in the little bun that you loved so much and this was it, you were going to hyperventilate and die.

Not that you had any feelings for Bucky or anything.

Obviously.

Drawing your attention back to the conversation – and away from the perfect beefcake next to you – you quickly joined in the laughter in attempt to look as if you were actually listening to people. Judging by the look on Steve's face, Sam and Bucky were having one of their whiney-little-bitch-fests again. You were sure they loved each other really. Deep, deep down.

Oops, you were staring again.

As you apparently couldn't handle being within 3 feet of the man without panting like a dog in heat, you decided to do the clever thing for once and leave - just in case the pain meds hadn't completely worn off yet and you blurted out something stupid. Like how you wanted to lick caramel sauce off of his abs.

Stop it brain.

Oh shit.

Natasha.

The red-head was over in the kitchen, buttering a piece of toast while she gave you a look that made you shiver. It was calculating and menacing, and paired with the smirk on her face meant bad news for you. Turning back to make sure no one else was paying attention, you strode quickly over to the spy, starting to stack the toast on a plate so that you had an excuse to scrunch up close to her.

“Nat, stop it. I don't know what you're doing, but I know that I don't like it and you need to stop before someone – that someone being me – ends up being embarrassed and/or severely injured.”

You'd sort of spat the words of her in one quick breath, and now the smirk and the look were accompanied with a raised eyebrow. She studied you in silence for a few seconds, making you shift uncomfortably, before humming and turning back to the toast.

“I thought you said you decided you were going to try and get over Barnes. Have you realised that's an incredibly stupid idea because it's obvious to everyone that the two of you love each other, you're just both too worried about some make-believe consequences to do anything about it?”

To be fair, she was right.

You obviously liked Bucky, and you knew that he liked you too. Your close friendship had turned flirty months ago, but there was still a little bit of you that worried you were wrong. That he didn't actually like you, and that if you said something it would ruin what you had, embarrass you in front of the whole team, and break your heart.

So you lived in denial, because it was safer.

The disapproving look from the spy next to you told you she knew exactly what you had been thinking.

So before she could try and talk you into making a move on Bucky, you did the mature thing and ran to sit next to Steve where he was reading from his tablet at the dining table, because no one – not even Nat – would mess with you in front of Steve.

Although, sticking your tongue out at her when she glared at you in frustration was probably really pushing your luck.

Fortunately, Clint called out that the food was ready, and the rest of the team all but ran for the table. Even more fortunately, Bucky was one of the last to the table and was sat several people down from you, meaning you wouldn’t start drooling over him while everyone else was trying to eat breakfast - that would just be rude. 

“So,” Tony began from his usual place at the head of the table, “I have a surprise.”

You all collectively groaned.

“Oh, come on, you don’t even know what it is yet! I thought, seeing as the mission was such a success -”

You interrupted him with a clearing of your throat, and a pointed look at your shoulder. Instead of showing any degree of sympathy, he simply continued with his announcement.

“- and we managed to find and erase a target we’ve been after for months, I figured we could do with a celebration! 8 o’clock, upstairs, look pretty for the photos - and no one’s using their veto card, everyone is going to be there, ok?”

He looked knowingly first at Bucky, who sighed, then Bruce, who mumbled something under his breath, and then you, who rolled your eyes and pouted. Even injured you couldn’t catch a break. 

Natasha nodded thoughtfully for a second, then said “That sounds great Tony, but it would be nice to do something just us as well. How about we spend the afternoon by the pool, have a few drinks, take some time to relax?”

The words sounded innocent enough, but as everyone else agreed enthusiastically with her suggestion, you narrowed your eyes as you tried to figure out her angle. She merely threw you an innocent smile, then turned to ask Clint about new training javelins or something. You weren’t fooled though. The woman was a conniving fox and you knew she had a plan.

You just hoped it wouldn’t be as horrific as you were expecting.

xxxx

Turned out it was worse. 

Here you were, stood in front of the full-length mirror in your room, clad only in a bikini that Nat had lent you.

Mysteriously, your selection of rather basic bikinis and one-pieces had gone missing, and so Nat had swooped in to save the day by lending you a spare. 

What a saint.

The bikini in question was hardly a bikini. It was a bright, royal blue, low-cut and clinging to your every curve in a way that you were sure violated some kind of indecency laws. Although it was cute.

Your hair was thrown up in a messy bun so that everything was on show, and your eyes kept drifting to the still-healing scar on your shoulder. You had many scars, and they didn’t really bother you, but this one was new and raw and you knew that Bucky would do that sad-puppy thing when he saw it - he was a total teddy bear under that gruff exterior. 

“Forget about Barnes, I’m going to make a move on you in that outfit.”

Catching Nat’s glinting eyes in the reflection, you turned and struck an exaggerated sexy pose. Your best friend gave you a nod of approval, then pushed you out of the room with a quick slap to your barely-covered ass. 

The two of you chatted mindlessly about what you were planning on wearing for the party on your way down to the pool, where the boys were already throwing each other around in the water. With an affectionate shake of the head, you watched Nat cannonball into the pool to join in the brawl, then went to set up camp on the lounger next to Wanda - missing the drop of Bucky’s jaw as he took in you in all your bikini-clad glory.

“Wan, I just need you to know, that you are a mighty fine specimen and I am proud to call you my friend.”

The brunette laughed at your words, but you were telling the truth. She was wearing a beautiful kaftan over her bikini, her hair was glowing in the sun, and her face looked so serene as she read her book. You had such gorgeous friends. 

“I like the bikini - I’m guessing it’s Nat’s?”

You replied with a “yep” as you started to lather up with sun cream, donned your shades, and then spread out to slowly toast in the sun. You felt like a warm, lazy cat, and could have stayed there happily for hours, had you not suddenly been splashed with what felt like a gallon or two of cold water. 

Your eyes opened into slithers as you looked for the culprit.

Sam and Bucky were the closest to you in the pool, and both wore a look of fear as they quickly pointed at each other.

“It was metal-Barbie, I swear it-”

“Sorry doll, this idiot-”

Both men cut themselves off quickly as they realised it was futile. 

Only idiots started a water fight with a pyrokinetic. 

The battle was long and messy, and several people had hair and clothing singed in the crossfire, but unsurprisingly, you were named victor. Now, Sam was lying face-down in the shade in an attempt to recover, while the others were playing some sort of water polo game in the pool. The fight had caused your shoulder to throb, and so you were once again on the sidelines. This time though, Bucky was next to you in Wanda’s vacated lounger, and you were thoroughly enjoying his company.

“Remind me again why I thought I could ever win against you?” Bucky enquired with a lazy grin, his cool eyes maintaining a pretty good job of not straying down to your exposed cleavage - although you had to admit, you did smirk inwardly whenever his eyes had travelled there. 

You shrugged and shot him a cocky smile.

“You’re an old man, it’s only natural you forget these things.”

Bucky barked out a deep laugh, then shot you a playful glare. Suddenly though, his gaze dropped to your shoulder and his brow furrowed. Looking down, you realised your wound was slowly oozing blood through the bandage you’d applied earlier.

“I’ll be right back, doll, don’t touch it.”

The super-soldier jogged off in search of a med kit, leaving you to gingerly peel back the soaked fabric. The bleeding was steady, nothing too serious luckily, but it would mean a trip up to Bruce’s lab to have the stitches replaced. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” 

Glancing up at the voice, you were met with concerned sky-blue eyes. Ever the Captain, and an honorary-brother-figure, nothing escaped his attention. 

“I’m fine, Buck’s gone to get supplies. Don’t worry yourself, Grandpa.”

Steve tutted in mock-annoyance at your cheek, before throwing you a warm smile and a wink.

“You’re in good hands then, I’ll leave you to it.”

God, even Steve Rogers the Golden Boy was attempting to hook you up with his best friend. 

Bucky returned quickly, squashed up next to you on your lounger, and patched up your arm with such gentle care and concentration that you could feel yourself smiling dopily at him the entire way through. 

“There, should be good to go. Maybe follow Helen’s advice and don’t go around picking fights though?”

You wanted to kiss that stupid (hot) smirk right off his annoying (sexy) face. 

You whacked his arm affectionately as you both laughed, and then lay back once again to enjoy the warm day and the company of your friends. 

The lounger that Bucky had been occupying before stayed empty. 

xxxx

As expected, Tony had gone overboard with the party. The whole floor was crowded with the biggest names in New York, mingling with the Avengers and their companions who were lucky enough to make the guestlist.

The music was good, and spirits were high, but a combination of pain medication and a few drinks that you really probably shouldn’t have had meant that you were sleepy. You were currently slumped on a bar stool as you sipped on your iced tea and people-watched. Ok, so maybe there was another reason your spirits had been dampened. 

Bucky had been talking to this hot blonde chick for nearly 15 minutes.

He could barely talk to Clint for 15 minutes, let alone some random. 

Although it was probably more to do with the sexy white dress she was wearing. 

Which was nothing compared to your black, lacy-sleeved, figure-hugging little number in your opinion, but there you go. Chewing on your straw, you stared blankly at the two of them for several more minutes before you decided that this was doing you absolutely no favours. 

Abandoning your drink on the bar, you headed towards the balcony doors, shooting what you hoped was a reassuring smile at Sam when he raised a concerned eyebrow in your direction. 

The cool night air was fresh on your skin, and the voices and music inside faded to a backing track as the doors closed behind you. Miraculously, you had managed to miss the smokers and had the balcony to yourself.

Taking advantage of this, you kicked off your heels and took a seat on one of the benches positioned to look out over the city. It was one of your favourite things to do, sit with the wind in your hair and watch the city lights stretch out over the horizon. It gave you perspective.

“Y/N?”

Turning with a smile, you patted the space next to you in invitation. Bucky didn’t hesitate, falling heavily into the seat next to you with a huff, one hand tugging at his tie agitatedly.

“Tony had me talking to one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s publicity reps for ages, he said it was the final step to changing the public’s image of me once and for all.”

Your heart lifted.

“Bucky, that’s great! And i’m sure she wasn’t that bad to talk to.”

The deadpan look you got in reply told a different story. 

With a soft laugh, you turned back to watching the city in companionable silence. The wind was picking up though, and you shivered in your thin dress. Not one to mess around, you turned to stare pointedly at Bucky. The brunette was watching the city peacefully, and it took him several seconds to realise you were staring at him. Before he could ask, you shivered exaggeratedly and let out the loudest “brrr” you could manage. 

Bucky laughed deeply, shaking his head as his eyes creased merrily. 

Man, you’d do anything to make him laugh. 

He slipped his jacket off and pulled it gently over your shoulders, leaving his arm draped around you so you were pressed to his side, faces close enough to make you dizzy. 

He simply watched you for a moment, and you held your breath in excited anticipation. His breath was warm on your face, his eyes were kind, and his hand was stroking your cheek so tenderly you wanted to cry. 

Then, finally, he kissed you.


	2. Combustion

After Bucky walked you back to your room with another kiss at your door, you couldn’t shake the giddy grin from your face. The door closed behind you and you started doing a happy dance that if any of the team caught you doing would lead to you having to kill them to stop the story spreading. 

It had finally happened.

Not caring that you were acting like a high-schooler, you fired off a quick message in the group chat you had with the girls telling them to stop by your room on the way to bed for some juicy news. 

Smile still in place, you sang unabashedly loudly as you changed into pj’s, took off your makeup and got into bed to watch tv and wait for the girls. You were only halfway through an episode of Riverdale when there was a rapid series of knocks on your door, accompanied with drunken giggles. 

You didn’t even have a chance to call out before the door was flung open and the two intoxicated girls cuddled up either side of you in your bed. 

“What happened? We need all the details, because I’m guessing this has to do with why you and Barnes snuck off early from the party.” Nat was in her element, eyes glinting with the promise of gossip while Wanda was tapping your arm in anticipation. Biting your lip, you felt the smile come back to your face as you thought about the hot makeout session that had only ended because Bucky had been summoned to help Steve carell drunken Sam and Clint to their rooms. 

“Well,” you began, drawing out the letters because you were enjoying their expressions of intense excitement way too much, “we may have kissed, and that kiss may have turned into the hottest 5 minutes of my life.”

Nat clapped her hands in pleasure, while Wanda squealed happily behind you. 

“Oh my god, this is so great, I’m so happy for you guys!” 

“It’s about goddamn time.”

Laughing at their reactions, which were pretty much word for word what you had expected, you lay back on your pillow and explained in detail just what Sergeant Barnes could do with that tongue - and his hands. 

10 minutes later, you were pushing out the still-giggling girls so that you could cocoon yourself in your covers and relive the evening over and over again till you fell asleep. 

For once, the nightmares were kept away. 

xxxx

You were awake, but it definitely wasn’t morning.

It took you a second to figure out what the hell was going on, disoriented from being woken abruptly from your deep sleep. Realising that it was your buzzing phone that had woken you, you grabbed it from the bedside table, squinting against the bright light of the screen.

On it was an alert from Fury, telling the team to meet in the briefing room immediately. 

As it was just after 4 in the morning, you were immediately put on edge as you wondered what was urgent enough to merit the wake-up call. You were halfway through pulling on your lycra combat pants when you realised that you were actually not supposed to be going on missions at the moment.

But then if it was this important…

Deciding that the main thing right now was getting to the meeting, you finished pulling on your uniform pants, but just threw a t-shirt on rather than your full combat outfit. On bare feet, you ran from your room towards the briefing room, flinging yourself through the door to the stairs so quickly you nearly knocked yourself out from bashing into Bucky full-speed. 

“Shit! Sorry babe, you ok?”

You nodded in response, wincing slightly at the stabbing pain in your shoulder. Bucky noticed, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he grabbed your hand, gave you a lopsided smile, then pulled you off down the stairs to the meeting. 

The team had gathered quickly, most in the bases of their combat outfits, boots being zipped up and accessories strapped on now that they were all seated before Fury. The Director gave you both a nod as you took the last remaining seats at the table, Bucky only dropping your hand momentarily to do up the fastenings of his vest. 

“All we know is that an unidentified group of armed forces is terrorising a village of civilians near Ottawa. Given the off-the-grid location, we reckon they must be looking for something - or someone.”

Steve had his serious-Captain face firmly in place as he digested the information.  
“Hydra?”

“Could be. That’s something you need to find out, after you’ve saved the civilians and cleared the area.”

Natasha took this opportunity to speak up, brows furrowed in contemplation. “Why us? If you don’t think they’re Hydra, why isn’t this a police or military matter?”

“Because,” Fury began, projecting a photo of the attack on the wall behind him, “the police and military aren’t trained to deal with alien weapons.” He stopped to look around the room. “I want the quinjet in the air in 10.”

The team all stood and left the room immediately, taking the lift up to the hangar to gather weapons and form a plan as they went. Avoiding Fury’s gaze, you went to follow them, but stopped when he called out your name. You nodded at Bucky to head up without you, and steeled your expression before turning to face Fury. 

“I know that I’m injured, but it’s not that bad and I need to go-”

“Y/N, as much as I admire your tenacity, you’re staying here. The rest of the team will be able to handle it, even Banner is going in case of a Code Green. You stay here, rest up, and you can join them on the next one. They should be back within 24 hours and I’m sure they’ll have information for you to analyse.”

Fury had turned back to typing on his tablet, and you knew there was no point attempting to fight his decision. 

“Understood Sir,” you sighed, mock-saluting while he wasn’t looking before heading up to the hangar. There, the team was gathered just in front of the ramp of the jet as they sifted through boxes of weapons. 

Unsurprisingly, it was Bucky who noticed you first. He shoved the assault rifle in his hand into Sam’s already laden arms and jogged to meet you halfway between the lift and the jet. Seeing the look on your face (that of a disgruntled toddler probably), he didn’t need to ask what Fury said. So instead he pulled you to his chest and rocked you both gently as he shifted his weight between his feet. 

Head nestled against his chest, you took in a deep breath as you instantly calmed at his secure smell and presence. It was unfair how good the man smelt. 

Pulling away gently, Bucky ducked his head to meet your eyes, brushing the sleep-mussed hair from your face. His lips met yours softly, and you realised then that you would probably never kiss him without feeling that sickening rush of happiness in your stomach. All too soon, he pulled away and smiled at you. 

“We’ll be back before you know it, don’t worry. Then I’ll take you on that date that I definitely owe you.”

“Is that a promise, Sarge?”

“You bet it is, doll.”

He kissed you again quickly, then reluctantly jogged back to the jet as Steve yelled his name for what was probably the 12th time. Nat and Wanda blew you a kiss and a wink each before they too disappeared up the ramp, which closed promptly behind them.

As the jet took off, you found yourself rubbing at your shoulder as the pain flared up again. The sick feeling in your stomach hadn’t stopped after the kiss, and you realised that what you were feeling was dread. 

No.

It was a simple mission, just taking down some thugs and a bit of crowd control. Fury had only sent the whole team because he was worried about the use of alien weapons, especially in a place that had never seen any action before. 

Still, you stood staring out over the city until the sky had faded from black to pink before you finally returned to your bed. 

xxxx

This time when you woke up, it was to the sounds of screaming. Your screaming.

Running a shaky hand through your sweat-drenched hair, you dropped back onto the pillows from where you had jolted upright. Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried desperately to steady your breathing and drive the images out of your head. The nightmares were a common occurrence for you, but the uneasy feeling in your stomach you’d had since the team left seemed to make them ten times worse. 

It was like his face was burned into the inside of your eyelids, or like he was a ghost that was always stood in the corner of your vision, staring you down with those violet eyes that were so inhuman. Although actually, he was inhuman, a Hydra experiment gone wrong who broke out and decided to create his own team of elemental-based super-slaves. 

A villain after world domination, how unoriginal.   
Creador had left scars on your body, your mind, your emotions. That was what had first drawn you to Bucky when he turned up at the compound all those months ago - you understood what it was like to be used as a weapon rather than a human being. 

Getting frustrated with your own little pity party, you scrubbed your hands over your face and reached to turn on the lamp.

Nothing. 

After clicking it on and off several times was unsuccessful, you stood and tried the main light instead. Still nothing. Now that you thought about it, the usual background hum of air-conditioning and built-in security measures was non-existent. A shiver crawled up your spine as you quickly tugged on a pair of jeans and some boots, tucking the gun from your bedside draw into the waistband. 

“FRIDAY?” 

Your whisper was met with silence. 

“FRIDAY, if you can hear me, turn my tablet on.”

The screen on the desk stayed black. Shit. 

Slowly, you crept towards your door on the balls of your feet, left hand swirling with the orangey-red hue of your flames. The click of the door sounded deafening in the silent compound, and you winced at the noise. The corridor outside your room was dark, but the dim red glow of the emergency lights was enough to make out your surroundings. 

So, the back-up generator had kicked in, but the mains were out? But then why was FRIDAY down? Tony was a very flawed person, but his AI’s were second to none.

Slipping your phone out of your back pocket, you clicked on Tony’s contact, the ring of the phone echoing through the empty hall. But, of course, the man didn’t pick up. Huffing in irritation, you left him a voicemail telling him that the power was out, including FRIDAY, and could he fix it asap because it was freaking you out? 

Slipping your phone back into your pocket, you debated going back to your room, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Someone could have broken in and disabled the power, you couldn’t just go back to bed.

Raising your still-glowing hand in front of you, you utilised your stealth skills and made your way down to the common area. The lounge and kitchen were empty and silent, so you slowly turned to search the lower floors. What you didn’t expect was to turn around and be sent flying back across the room with a punch to the stomach. 

You crashed into a coffee table, struggling for breath as you quickly dragged yourself out of the splinters of glass and onto your feet. With no hesitation, you waved your hand in the direction of the hulking man, your powers sending him staggering with a screech as he was severely burned. 

Spinning on your heel, you then caught the foot that was coming towards your face and threw a punch to the woman’s gut. The two of you began a deadly fist-fight, lashing at each other venomously as your fighting skills kicked in to replace the drowsiness. The man across the room had recovered, and was starting towards you when you shot him in the thigh under the woman’s arm, which you then twisted and used to flip her onto her back. 

Before you could knock her out with a swift boot to the head, you were grabbed from behind with a tight arm around your throat. Your shoulder was screaming in pain, but you fought through it as you kicked the advancing man square in the chest with both feet. Then, reaching for the arm around your neck, you used your powers to burn your handprints into his exposed skin. Yelping, he dropped his hold on you, and you took the chance to swing around and punch him in the face with enough force to send him to the floor. The other man was back up, but as you lunged at him, he suddenly disappeared into thin air. 

High on adrenaline, you spun on the spot, desperate eyes seeking out the attacker as you held the gun in surprisingly steady hands. 

However, it wasn’t the attacker that you found your pistol trained on. Instead, it was a man in a red smoking jacket, grey hair cropped close to his head and sharp eyes fixed on you. He was smiling wickedly as you felt the gun drop from your hands. 

The blow to the back of your head left you unconscious with only a single thought flitting through your mind. 

Creador. 

xxxx

To say the team was aggravated was an understatement. The jet was silent apart from the grinding of teeth, the constant huffs and angry mumbles, and the unnecessarily forceful use of the controls by Clint. 

The call had been a fake. 

There was nothing happening in Ottawa. No men with guns, no burning buildings or scared civilians. The footage had been faked, and they’d been sent on a wild goose-chase for no goddamn reason.

Bucky was pissed. It was nearing midday, which meant he could have been having a brunch with you right now. Pancakes and all the trimmings, watching that dopey smile on your face and wondering how he got so damn lucky that a girl like you wanted a guy like him.

Instead, he was squashed up in a cramped jet next to Sam, who was taking the wasted time personally - probably because of the hangover. Just another 20 minutes, and they’d be back. He could make you food and plan your date, and everything would be good.

He’d texted you a while ago but there had been no reply. He’d wanted to check in after the voicemail that you had tried to leave Tony had come through as scrambled static that Tony blamed on interference from the jets - which made no sense, but Tony wasn’t one to admit to a problem.

FRIDAY had confirmed everything at the compound was fine though, so there was no need to worry. 

When the jet touched down in the hangar, moods lifted instantly with the promise of showers, food and naps. The team squashed in the lift, already arguing about what takeout to get later that night. Clint stabbed at the button for the common area. Then, when the doors remained open, he pressed it again. 

The team went silent, exchanging confused looks. Then all eyes turned to Tony. 

“Huh. FRIDAY, why’s the power off?”

His question was met with silence.

Steve frowned, repeating the name to no reply. 

“Well, stairs it is,” Nat commented carefully, eyes suspicious as they scanned their surroundings. 

The team made noises of agreement and took the stairs down to the living room. Everyone was on edge, but no one mentioned it. They were all ready for a fight, but all hoping they were wrong.

Steve was in front, and Bucky didn’t miss the quick breath he took before pushing open the door to the living room. 

“No. No!”

His shout sent the others into action, and as a group they pushed Steve from where he was rooted to the spot, blocking the doorway. The scene that met them was one of destruction. Shattered glass littered the carpet, chairs were broken and frames thrown from their places. Blood dripped from the ceiling in a steady rhythm, and the bodies of several black-clad men were spread around the area.

The worst thing, however, was in the centre of the room. The thing that made Wanda scream and Nat clap a hand to her mouth, that sent Clint to his knees and Sam into a rage. Tony and Bruce just stood and stared, disbelief and sorrow forming their expressions.

And Bucky? He broke. In front of him was the most harrowing thing he’d ever seen, and he could feel himself crumbling into nothing as he looked at it.

Your dead body.


	3. Implosion

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he cried.

He’d had watery eyes when waking from a nightmare, or leaked a few tears from laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, but he hadn’t cried like this since before the war. He’d taken 10 minutes to himself outside in the grounds, where he’d let himself go. He’d sobbed and gasped and shuddered as the pure grief scraped along his insides like a knife. He’d lost himself in the emotions, mourned for the loss of something he barely even got to start.

Then he composed himself, cleaned his face, and joined the others. 

The living area was being cleaned by staff, Y/N’s body taken away to be examined. They’d put you in a bag and taken you away and it was only Steve’s iron-clad grasp on his arm that stopped Bucky from grabbing you back to cradle you against his chest and never let you go.

Now, the team were sat in silence in Tony’s lab, unable to face the chaos that was taking place outside. Fury would deal with that. Right now, they drank and avoided eye contact, everyone scattered around the room yet still taking comfort in the solidarity. 

Bucky had no idea how long it had been since they’d found you - it was all a blur of gut-wrenching heartache. He took methodical swigs of the rapidly-emptying whisky bottle, stubbornly keeping away from Steve who he knew would try to make him talk. He appreciated the thought, he really did, but he wasn’t ready - not yet.

Suddenly, Tony slammed his hands down on the desk he was sat at. 

“Fuck!”

The outburst shattered the group’s daze, Wanda jumping out of her seat and everyone turning tired eyes towards the genius. 

“There’s nothing. How the fuck can there be nothing?!”

Tony was breathing heavily, eyes wild and temper raging. Steve was slowly approaching him with the gait of a man ready to jump and subdue at a moment’s notice. Trying to diffuse the situation that she was too fucking exhausted to deal with, Nat turned to Tony.

“What are you talking about, Stark?”

“I’ve been trying to access FRIDAY, the CCTV, the goddamn light switches - anything that could give us any information about what happened. And there’s just nothing. FRIDAY’s working but she has a complete blank space where they must have deactivated her - the whole tower was shut down for two hours.”

“Hold up, you used FRIDAY on the mission - she said everything at the compound was fine.” Sam’s voice was scratchy, and he kept his head in his hands as he spoke. 

“That’s what I don’t get. FRIDAY was up and running, but was blocked from the compound. It’s like in movies where the bad guys play a clip on a loop to fool the guards into thinking the CCTV is still working - technically, it’s recording what’s happening, but it’s not seeing what’s actually there. I don’t know who could have done that, or how.”

Everyone sat in silence once again as they mulled over Tony’s words, having all gathered around the central desk during the conversation.

“Oh my God.”

Everyone turned to Bucky at his pained statement, all obviously wary of him - he didn’t blame them, he wasn’t exactly a stable human being. The thought that had struck him caused him to close his eyes and swallow down the taste of bile.

“She tried to call you. The voicemail - she must have called you when she realised FRIDAY was down. That must have been why it came through as static. She tried to get our help, and we didn’t even fucking know it.”

He could hear his voice breaking, but he didn’t give a shit about pride or reputation right now. He didn’t care about anything apart from the fact that you were gone.

Silence swallowed the room again.

xxx

The groan you let out as you slowly regained consciousness was the most pathetic noise you’d ever heard yourself make. 

You stayed laying down for a minute, eyes still shut as you registered the bone-deep ache that seemed to burn from every inch of your body. Your shoulder was particularly painful, and there was a sharp stab in your lungs when you tried to take a deep breath. 

The stabbing feeling caused your eyes to shoot open and you were immediately blinded by white. Hissing at the light that flooded the room, you raised a hand to shield your vision and quickly noticed the bandage tied tight around it. Confusion washed over you, and you slowly moved to prop yourself up against the pillows.   
The room you were in looked unrealistically sterile. Everything was white and shining, the bed you were on facing a matching desk and dresser. Two doors filled the opposite wall, and a mirror was placed in the corner. 

The room felt familiar, but you weren’t sure why. 

Looking down at yourself, you grimaced as you realised that your clothes had been changed. You were in a plain white sleeveless shirt with matching drawstring trousers, with bare feet and - thank god - your own underwear. 

There were more bandages and butterfly stitches adorning your body, and you were surprised you weren’t in more pain. Not that you were complaining, of course. What was weird though was the tight feeling around your throat. 

Swinging your legs around carefully, you slipped from the bed and padded towards the mirror. What you saw chilled your blood. Around your neck was a collar - but not any collar, an extremely strong shock collar with a tracking device and the ability to do anything from making you wince to killing you in an excruciatingly painful way if you put a toe out of line. 

Oh God, you knew where you were.

White hot panic flooded your brain, and your body moved of its own accord, flinging you to the door. It opened easily, and you sprinted off down the corridor, not having any idea where you were going but not caring - you needed to be anywhere that wasn’t here. 

You knew you wouldn’t make it out, there was no way you could escape with such ease - but you’d be a fool to not try. Who would sit around and wait for the monster to come to them?

You skidded sharply around a corner, bare feet slipping on the polished floor, to be met with a long corridor leading to a single, crimson door. You halted abruptly. You knew what was behind that door. Pivoting on your heel, you moved to try another direction - except, you were met with a wall. You slammed your hand against the brick in frustration and barely felt the pain. You’d had enough of these bullshit games years ago. 

Knowing you had no other choice, you turned and stalked towards the door, ready to drop into a fighting stance. When you reached the door, you hesitated for a moment. Then, drawing a deep breath, you clasped the golden knob and threw the door open so hard it slammed off the wall behind it. 

The room stretched out in front of you, all high ceilings and paintings and expensive furniture. He always had been totally up himself. Clenching your jaw, you strode towards the lone figure lounging in a throne with fake bravado - inside, you were fucking terrified. 

Creador didn’t even look up as you stopped in front of him, chest heaving in anger and fists balled tightly at your sides, shaking with adrenaline. He flipped the page in his book, and you snapped. You plucked the book from his hand and chucked it across the room, which finally granted you with Creador’s attention. 

He looked up at you with his haunting grey eyes, scarring across both pupils, and you felt the urge to run, throw up, and curl in a ball and cry all at once. He knew what you were thinking, and he loved it. He grinned his sickly grin and lounged back in his chair, comfortable in the power he held over you.

“Settled in, my dear? I know it’s been a while, but there hasn’t been too many changes, you should still be able to find your way around. You know, I’d almost forgotten just how lovely you looked in that special necklace of yours - it’s been kept in your room all this time, waiting for your return.” He stood from his chair with the grace of a predator, coming to stand in front of you and brushed a strand of hair back from your face. “I really have missed you, Angel.”

The petname brought out your anger full-force, and before you could stop yourself you’d slapped him across the face with enough force that he staggered backwards a few steps. He looked back at you with rage-filled eyes and you knew you’d pay, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the action.

“Now, now. I have big plans for you, but you have to co-operate.” His smirk turned venomous. “Looks like we’re going to have to put you through training again.”

Your stomach dropped and the fear set your ears ringing as you were flooded with memories of what he considered ‘training’. Most people you knew just called it torture. 

Shaking your head, you backed away from the man. “You can’t do this. The team will come and look for me, they’ll be able to find me easily.”

Creador’s laugh hit you like nails on a chalkboard. He shook his head in pity, and sat back down in his throne. 

“They won’t be looking for you, they think you’re dead.”

“What? No, no way. They wouldn’t believe I was dead unless they had proof - they’ll come looking for me.”

“They did have proof. After all, can’t argue with a body, can you?”

You blinked back tears as you fought about the team finding your dead body. Oh God, Bucky. You really were back in Creador’s world, in his stupid game where the only person that mattered was him. His ability of perception manipulation, the ability to make people see whatever he wanted, was a power that had been given to him by HYDRA, before he’d betrayed them. He’d gotten bored of working for someone else, busted out, and decided to create experiments of his own. He’d called himself Creador and began planning ways to take over the world - the man had a serious God complex.

You were still rooted to the spot and feeling overwhelmed when guards suddenly grabbed your wrists and began tugging you from the room.

“Just remember Angel,” Creador called after you, “if you try to escape, you won’t get very far. And the next body to turn up will be your pretty boy Bucky’s - only this time, it’ll really be him.”

You didn’t reply.

xxx

The next few days were taxing, to put it mildly. 

They were filled with Creador’s ‘training programme’, which consisted of a multitude of fucked up things. When you were lucky, you just sparred. Your physical abilities and pyrokinesis were pushed to the limit and you wanted to die of exhaustion by the end of the sessions, but you’d take it any day over the alternative. 

Creador wasn’t one for physical torture. His plan, you’d learnt on your second day, was to combine the powers of you and several other elemental specialists to create some sort of twisted dream team of supervillains. This meant he couldn’t weaken your physical abilities - but it also meant that he needed to be able to control you.

He could have brainwashed you like HYDRA did to Bucky and have it over with. For Creador, that was too nice. Instead, he was breaking you. Manipulating you until you cracked. He used his ability to make you see things - things that had you screaming and begging to be killed. 

He didn’t need to torture you physically. Showing you your deepest, darkest fears on a loop was doing the job. It was exhausting, and the first few nights were spent huddled in your wardrobe, unable to sleep and jumping at every little thing. 

Then you stopped feeling. Creador had made it so that this training would break you down, stop your emotions, trap you inside your own head so all he had to do was point you in a direction and give you an order and you’d suddenly blink and find your hands covered in blood. It was just the way he had programmed you. 

The visions stopped hurting so much, the sharp pain now a dull ache in your heart. Your eyes were heavy, and you stared blankly at the wall as the Bucky double in front of you screamed at you to help him, to save him, as the blood pooled on the carpet beneath him. 

Up in the viewing gallery of your very-own torture chamber stood Creador. He was smirking at your reaction, pleased with himself as he turned to the blonde man next to him.

“She’s ready. Find Nerites.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, check out my tumblr 'ragequitthatshit' for updates and info on what's happening :)


End file.
